


That Garrison Flair!

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:40:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28837194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Two men, cousins, both military officers, they had been uneasy competitors since childhood.  A tense reunion, then a wild mission under their belts, they part ways once again, only slightly closer than they were before.  But when Lieutenant Craig Garrison lands in the soup, Cousin Philip seems the best bet the guys have for pulling him out again.  The thing is, will he go along with the con or turn them all in and cause it all to go to hell?  And even if he DOES go along, they knew how good the Warden is at the art of the con, but can THIS Garrison handle the job?  Does he have 'that Garrison flair' that is going to be so essential?  Only time will tell.
Kudos: 4





	That Garrison Flair!

"So we are to have, what, an observer? And sent by the Canadians, not London HQ. And HQ is NOT to know about this. Interesting. Captain Philip Garrison. Any relation, Craig?" Actor asked around the stem of his pipe.

Garrison didn't say anything for a couple of seconds, then admitted, "my first cousin. My father's younger brother's son; his mother is Canadian by birth; he holds dual citizenship. They bypassed HQ, since he's not sure Special Forces, maybe Special Ops is what he wants but is leaning in that direction. 

"His own unit commander doesn't want HQ taking the ball and running with it if not a good fit. Seems they don't want to lose him by some bureaucratic snafu if he decides this isn't his thing; they've had that happen before, and it did not end well. So they are doing a round-about. One of their guys knows a guy who knows a guy we've worked with a time or two, noticed the names being the same, asked a question or two and got this bright idea - let him get a taste while he's in what they see as 'good hands', see what he thinks about the fit, before he makes his interest official."

The blank-face Garrison was giving showed them he wasn't nearly as much in favor of that as you might think. You'd almost think he wasn't going to be HAPPY to spend some time with his cousin! The guys took note of that, but figured they'd get the details later probably.

"A lot like you, is 'e?" Goniff asked with interest, glancing up from the incomprehensible triple-deck solitaire game he'd laid out. He'd tried explaining the rules earlier, but since he was making them up new for each game to alleviate boredom, and also since he didn't always remember the ones he'd put in place for each particular set, that wasn't as easy as it might have been. Understandably, the others had lost interest halfway through his rambling on. 

That was alright with him; he didn't really expect them to be listening to him, especially he wasn't listening all that much to himself either. Only made the outcome of the game more interesting in his point of view, though being both the 'player' and the 'house' did improve his overall odds of winning, one way or the other. Things like that just didn't happen all that often in life, not enough to turn your nose up at the opportunity.

Even now, with the game almost finished, from looking at the wide spread of cards you couldn't have told much about what was and wasn't allowable. The sides of the display were rounded to match the shape of the table, which made things interesting enough since the far outside rows eventually blended into each other. When you threw in the fact that he'd used one English deck - blacks and reds only for the four suits - and one French deck using black, red, green, and blue, PLUS an alternate French deck that substituted a goldy-orange for the blue used for diamonds in the first French set, it was, if nothing else, a bright, if not overly illuminating, display.

Casino bent over that colorful layout, took a good look, then tapped one of the remaining cards in Goniff's hand. "That plays on that green queen of clubs over there," he offered helpfully.

Goniff blinked, looking at the spread and then at the card indicated. "Why?" he asked, puzzled frown on his face as he looked up at Casino.

Casino shrugged, "why the hell not?" and the others were amused when the pickpocket thought that over and then gave a cheerful shrug of his own, moving the red two of hearts over to rest on the queen of clubs.

"Like you say, why the 'ell not," he said agreeably. "Surprised I missed that. Thanks, Casino!"

Chief laughed, a fairly rare occasion, and glanced to see if Garrison and Actor were joining in. Actor might have seemed mildly amused; Garrison was a million miles away it seemed.

Actor gently proded the lieutenant, "you were saying, he is your cousin. Are you close?"

Garrison's smile was one of deep irony. "Not particularly, only sometimes in proximity and only when neither of us had a choice, Actor. A few times a year maybe, back when we were kids, usually when we ended up at my grandmother's place at the same time. And no, Goniff, we're not all that much alike - well, physically, maybe, but not otherwise. And from what I gather, he's not just an observer to see if he'd fit with a Specials team; he's considering putting himself up as a potential team leader. HQ has put the word out to all the related services that they're looking for any and recruits, anyone who might fit the bill."

"Oh, they thinkin' of adding on some more teams? Know they're getting a little short of guys to do the heavy lifting, but that sounds like a full out push," Casino asked. The problem was, the requirements, the skills needed for Special Forces were different than for regular soldiering, and not everyone could make the switch-over. Actually, relatively few could, successfully anyway. That means the casualties the teams invariably took, whether permanent due to deaths or temporary due to injuries, were hard to counter with viable new recruits.

"Not more teams, necessarily. Perhaps a few options to replace some of the current team leaders," and he folded the communication, slipped it back into his pocket and left without another word.

"Replace some of the team leaders. There may be one or two that could use switching out, maybe Hanson and Kilbride, think they're pretty much at the burn-out stage, but for the most part, they seem solid," Chief mused thoughtfully. "I wouldn't want a newbee running a team I was on."

"You don't think they'd switch out the Warden, do you?" Casino asked with a worried frown. "Hell, we just got him broke in good!"

"They can't do that, Casino! Who else could appreciate us the way we deserve? Takes a special sort, that does," Goniff snarked, though looking a little worried himself.

"Two Garrisons. This should be interesting," Actor said, looking at the door Garrison had just left by.

"Hope it's not TOO damned interesting, Beautiful. You notice, the Warden didn't seem all that happy to have family come visiting." 

Well, Casino knew a few things about family. Most of his were just fine, excellent in fact, but a few he could do without. Take Louie, his low-down louse of a cousin, for example; if Louie showed up here, Casino's first impulse would be to lock the damned door; the second would be to knock him flat on his ass! Maybe Garrison felt the same way about this cousin of his.

Captain Philip Garrison. There was a strong resemblance, uncannily so, far past them having the same gold blond hair, same build, being approximately the same age. This other Garrison even had green eyes, but of a slightly different shade and intensity. 

Oh, them wearing different uniforms, that still kept things easy, at least to begin with. However, once both men had switched into anonymous fatigues, it was like having double-vision, or so Actor claimed. Sergeant Major had been caught out a time or two when there was some distance between them, though Goniff didn't seem to have a problem telling them apart at ANY distance, and Chief could tell most times if not always.

Casino claimed he couldn't, even up close; that it was like he'd been on an extended drunk and didn't have his vision back to normal yet. He added that, if that second Garrison hung around much longer, he just might have to GO on such an excursion since he couldn't see a downside, a hangover probably being less painful than what they were already going through.

While that probably wasn't the case, his not EVER being able to tell the two men apart - they didn't LIVE in fatigues, after all - his so-called mistakes were amusing to the other guys, if not so much to either officer. Neither officer seemed to find the mistaken identity to be the least bit flattering, in fact.

It seems the two cousins were constantly trying to outdo each other, too, whether on the obstacle course, the ropes, the firing range, even in the hand-to-hand practice. Even inside, batting information back and forth, it was like it was a contest, who knew the most about what subjects. The arguments that ensued were polite, correct, and stilted to the point of being comical, at least to the team. To the two rivals, it seemed deadly serious.

The fallout from all of that made the others a little more sympathetic with Casino's opinion about the desirability of a good drunk than they might have been otherwise, especially since the two officers tended to draw the others into their one-upmanship contests. 

One go-around on the obstacle course with their own Garrison turned into one go-around with EACH Garrison, each pushing not only themselves but the men to the max, and so on. It was interesting on one level, but frankly, it was more than they were up for. 

Goniff swore he'd lost five pounds since Captain Garrison showed up, was likely to continue the trend if Garrison's cousin stuck around much longer. "And I ain't got another five pounds just sitting around that I ain't already using for something! Like to 'old my ruddy pants up, maybe!" tugging those wayward garments back into place.

So, while it had its high points, it also had its low points, and the team debated each night once they were settled in on which Garrison had come out ahead that particular day. The only thing they seemed to agree on was that THEY weren't coming out on top!

In fact, as Casino snarked, he'd just about made up his mind that two Garrison's were NOT better than one, just twice the trouble. 

"Better take an extra first aid kit if we end up going out. If he's got the same talent for getting bunged up as the Warden, we're gonna need it."

The stiffness between the two men continued, enough to garner a joint eyeroll from the guys at each new episode. Despite being cousins, they hadn't even progressed to using first names yet; it was still that stilted "Lieutenant" and "Captain" every time they spoke. It was starting to get annoying rather than interesting. 

Then they were tapped for that last-minute mission. Smuggling their second Garrison along had been easy enough, just a little misdirection, a little fast talking. Then their boots hit the ground and things got back to interesting, very interesting, very fast.

Philip lay on his back in the dirt, panting hard, wondering what the hell to do next. He wasn't injured, though that grenade had come close enough to toss him a few feet into the dirt and dry leaves of the woodside. Glancing to one side he could see one of the others laying face down, traces of red marring the clothes identical to the ones he was wearing. Well, one German uniform was pretty much like another, especially this close to full dark. Squinting, trying to clear the dust from his eyes enough to read the rank, {"major's uniform; that means it's Craig, and he's hurt."}. He was trying to gather himself to move, to do something productive when a voice interrupted his train of thought.

"Ei, now, Captain! You alright?" came a low whisper from the side and Philip turned his head to see Goniff on his belly wiggling through the dust toward the two downed men. "Chief'll be along to see to you in a minute unless you're gushing or something that I don't see. Speak up now! If you're NOT bad 'urt, I gotta get to the lieutenant; 'E'S going to need patching up, you can bet on that!"

Philip squinted at the anxious face staring directly at him. It seems at least Garrison's thief had no question about which was which, though, as Philip remembered, he never really had.

Moistening his lips he responded. "I don't think I'm hurt, just a little shook up."

"Right then. You stay put; like I said, Chief'll see you off to the side as soon as 'e pulls Casino outta that ditch," and the small man continued on his way to Garrison's side. "Wish Actor was with us, but 'e'll be along a few miles a'ead I expect."

Philip watched while the pickpocket quickly did a hands-over examination of his cousin, then gently rolled him over onto his back. 

"Come on then, Lieutenant. Up you go! Can't sleep the day away, though it's more night now, I suppose; imagine you 'ave all sorts of interesting things on your list to do. Now let's see w'at you've managed THIS time. A few cuts, nothing that needs stitching. I expect you'll 'ave a lovely assortment of bruises. Now why can't you take lessons from the captain over there? Took the same blast, didn't 'e? Don't see 'IM getting 'imself knocked out and all bloody, do you?" Gonif gently scolded, all the while those talented hands making fast work with the pocket first aid kit.

"Goniff?" a groggy Garrison muttered, lifting his head carefully.

"Well, who else would it be? And before you ask, everyone else is okay. Maybe not as 'fine' as you're about to tell me YOU are, but still okay. Me and Chief didn't even get our 'air mussed, Casino ate a mouthful of dirt and landed in a ditch that Chief's pulling 'im out of as we speak. Our captain, 'e TRIED to pull a Garrison, but seem 'e don't 'ave w'at it takes - got laid out flat, true, but 'e's still awake and no extra points for blood and such. Odd, in a way, you know? Seems some things just DON'T run in the family."

"Goniff? Just shut up and get me up from here. I'm fine," the lieutenant ordered, and allowed the grinning Cockney to pull him to his feet.

"Captain? ARE you okay? If so, as soon as the others join us, we have to get going. We still have a job to do," Garrison said urgently, moving stiffly but more rapidly than Philip would have thought adviseable just yet for someone who'd lost consciousness for awhile.

{"Obviously Cousin Craig has a very efficient reset switch!"} he thought as he got to his feet and brushed himself off.

"Hey, Goniff, they okay - oh, hey, Warden. Glad to see you and the captain remembered how to duck," Casino said as he and Chief ran up to the small group. Casino hadn't totally managed to wipe the mud out of his hair, but he looked pretty good for someone who'd taken a nosedive in a ditch at high speed.

"We remembered, Casino. Goniff tells me you decided to try flying. Maybe next time you should use a plane," Garrison retorted dryly.

"Nah, that's the sissy way, Lieutenant. Pappy here, he prefers it the old fashioned way - just spreads his wings and takes off. Hasn't quite licked the landings yet, though," Chief said, brushing loose dirt off Casino's shoulder.

"I suggested distracting her with your charm, Captain. I must give you credit for throwing yourself wholeheartedly into your assignment, of course; but perhaps, in the future, you might consider maintaining a modicum of caution as well," Actor offered, looking down at the disheveled officer.

Philip gulped, not yet believing what had just happened. One minute he was distracting sultry-eyed Michelle, sure of it being a total waste of time since she obviously didn't have a role in this nest of vipers. The next minute, he felt the press of something sharp against his throat. That look on the brunette's face had turned from sensuous to maliciously triumphant as her accomplice forced Philip over against the wall and proceeded to search him with the hand that wasn't holding the knife.

One big hand forced him around, and before Philip could get his bearings, delivered three sharp blows that left him groggy and on his knees. The only thing the officer found that he could pride himself on in the whole scene was that he steadfastly refused to answer any of the questions that came immediately on the heels of those blows. Of course, he was also ruefully aware that he hadn't been under a true interrogation, not since suddenly there were three others in the room - Casino, Actor and Goniff. 

Somehow the lovely and quite furious brunette, struggling against those curtain ties now binding her hand and foot, was now wearing a gag made from her own stockings. The sullen-faced man with the moustache and hard fists was unconscious on the floor, the knife now firmly in the possession of the pickpocket who was examining it with interest. 

"Might take it back to Chiefy, sort of a souvenir, you know?" Goniff remarked calmly. 

Philip noted those innocent blue eyes had a cold look; the pickpocket didn't look nearly so amiable now, though his voice was still friendly enough, almost teasing, when he addressed Philip.

"You alright, Captain? Still trying to outdo the lieutenant, are you? That little trickle of blood, them bruises, that's not going to do the trick, you know. 'E can manage more than that going to Sunday tea at the Parsonage."

Philip flushed just a little; as absorbed as he'd been, he hadn't realized just how obvious that earlier competition had been to the team.

They took the info they'd been dispatched to obtain and headed off to meet Garrison and Chief, having been successful in their search while Philip had, if nothing else, kept those two occupied. 

Philip didn't understand the shared amusement when Goniff assured Garrison that "and you don't 'ave to give 'im any lectures about not letting 'imself get distracted again by a pretty skirt, Lieutenant. Actor already did that. Well, who better, you know?" all with a sly smile that had their con man flushing with embarrassment. 

He didn't understand Garrison's reply either, that dry look that shifted between Philip and Actor, the equally dry, "as you say, Goniff - who better?"

He DID understand he'd almost died back there; probably WOULD have died if Garrison's men hadn't pulled him out of the fire. He would have felt more uncomfortable about it, possibly, if the men hadn't just shrugged it off. Casino had even slapped him on the shoulder, sending him a couple of feet forward with the force. 

"Hey, don't sweat it, babe. Happens to us all sometimes. Hell, even happens to ME sometimes, ya know?" 

Again, why that elicited a concert of snorts from the others, he might not know, at least at that moment. That was soon remedied during their next rest break, when the others took turns telling a few stories featuring various lovely ladies and the impact - sometimes blunt force impact - they'd had on the men of Garrison's Gorillas. That they were doing it to tease each other, he got that; that they were ALSO doing it to put him more at ease with his blunder, he understood that as well, and was grateful.

He found himself relaxing as he hadn't since this whole mission had started. Being treated as, if not exactly 'one of the guys', still, someone they were comfortable enough to be sharing stories with, that felt oddly satisfying. Of course, he did get the feeling that those stories were being highly edited even in the telling, and he was quite right, of course.

Glancing over at his cousin, deeply involved in charting something on that pocket map, he dared to ask, "so, each of you have had your little encounters. What about your gallant leader? I haven't heard any stories involving HIM charming the ladies. Is that not one of his talents?"

That got a few MORE snorts, this time of pure derision at such a question even being asked, and Casino started to tell a story that involved some missing film, a bank vault, and that energetic wife of the banker himself. 

"Gina Marie. Man, the appetite on that broad. . .!" with Actor recommending another incident about a ravishing (or maybe just intent on ravishing) officer's niece who was just as intent on becoming Mrs. Craig Garrison, and Chief adding in "tell him about that little 'misunderstanding', all the ruckus at Major Richard's sister's flat", with Goniff protesting, "well, w'at about . . ." only to stop abruptly at the stern interruption from the man in question.

"Ahem! Casino, gentlemen, don't corrupt my cousin. I think Gina Marie and the others might be more than he needs to be hearing about, don't you?" 

Obviously that was not a rhetorical question, not from the speed with which the men changed the subject. Still, those grins told their own story, and Philip decided his cousin could probably hold his own with these guys any day of the week in that area too.

{"Maybe the subject will come up again. I hope so. THIS Craig, I think I could like. Why I ever thought him a junior version of his father, I can't imagine, not anymore!!"}

There was some sort of unspoken communication later, just a quick look, an impatient snap of Garrison's fingers, and the atmosphere changed. It wasn't cold, it wasn't harsh, but it was obvious the guys were to get back to business, and they did, without resentment, without question. 

It was impressive, Philip thought, even more so when the four peeled off to their assigned tasks without hesitation. It wasn't so much the obedience that was impressive, but the orders - things you'd think would give any man, Special Forces or not, pause. But there they went - Chief to obtain a German staff car of a certain appearance and capacity, Actor to make contact with an old acquaintance 'someone you do not need to know about' to obtain information not previously available. Casino headed out to keep watch at their eventual target, figure out a good entry point for later when, apparently, he'd be cracking not one but two safes. And Goniff had headed out to obtain uniforms and equipment, "and make sure there's enough bird trot on Beautiful's, okay? Otherwise he'll pout and we'll never hear the end of it," Casino had snarked before he left.

"And they'll have no problem with those assignments, Craig?" addressing his cousin by name for the first time since his arrival. Philip asked skeptically. "Are they that familiar with Saint-Laurent? You get here all that often, take vacation here, maybe? And is the language not an issue? I didn't get the feeling any of them except for Actor are particularly fluent in French or German."

"Fluent they aren't, talented they are. They can all read a city map; can match street signs to print whether they can pronounce them or not. Actor DOES know the area, was able to point out the best possibilities. Chief can scout out the right transport. It might not be exactly what I'd prefer, but it WILL be the best available. Goniff knows to hit the laundries and cleaners, the tailor shops, places it won't be so noticeable if something's missing; he'll tackle the actual stores if he strikes out elsewhere, but he'll manage. They'll be at the meet-up, goods in hand. 

"You and I, we have another errand. Aubergine should have what I need, at least I was told she should have; she collects 'oddities', some of which can be very helpful at times. She's an old acquaintance, and we have mutual friends, which should help. Let me do the talking, though. Things can get a little tricky with her if you're not careful."

{"Aubergine? 'Eggplant'? Who the hell calls themself 'Eggplant'?"} Philip wondered, but obviously his cousin was ready to move out and was finished with the explanations.

A discreet knock at an alley door, a whispered few words, and they were ushered inside a cozy room where a billowy female of indeterminate years was lounging on a long couch. Looking at her, looking around in amazement, Philip shook his head. 

{"Aubergine. Now it makes sense - maybe. Eccentric, yes, outlandish, certainly - but some sort of sense anyway."}. 

The room was - well, it was purple - the carpet, the figured wallpaper, the velvet upholstery on the dark wood or gilded furniture - all purple. The mats of the pictures on the wall were purple inside their gold frames; the sconces on the wall sported gold and crystal trim against shades painted with purple irises and violets.

And as for Aubergine herself, she was a picture in purple, even to the extent of that huge silver wig she was wearing having a pale purple tinge to it, not to mention the purple ribbons threaded through it. The lavish false eyelashes were, of course, deep purple, to match her eyeshadow, vivid against the lead-white makeup she wore. Her lipstick was of some shade not quite burgundy, it had too much blue in it for that, but that was the closest Philip could get to an adequate description. The caftan she wore was royal purple splashed with gold and silver and, {"probably to liven it up!"} huge splatters of turquoise that matched the pointy-toed and high-heeled velvet slippers she wore. 

The fact that her shape DID bring somewhat to mind an Italian eggplant helped the imagery, of course. Philip wondered if she'd adopted the name Aubergine from her love of the color purple, or if, having been stuck with the name by a clueless parent, had simply decided to make the best of it. {"Perhaps Craig might know; I'll try to remember to ask him later."}

Philip made his polite bow at the initial introduction in French, then stood silently by while the other two held a rapid-fire conversation in a patois increasingly different, seeming to shift every few sentences to a new variation, the gist of which he lost track of long before the woman suddenly chuckled and gave a fond smile of agreement, leaned forward to pat Garrison on one cheek. She switched back to a more recognizeable form of the language that Philip could understand.

"D'Accord. I will give you the key, mon chou, because I always find you so amusing. Is your twin as amusing as well? Has he your style, your flair? Perhaps you will leave him here with me while you go do whatever naughty and oh-so-important things you have in mind, eh? Unless YOU prefer to stay here and do naughty things with me? Perhaps you should BOTH stay; that would increase the possibilities for naughty things. I would not be inclined to say no."

Garrison looked amused, but shook his head, seemingly with true regret. 

"I'm sorry; I've never had a more flattering offer. Unfortunately I DO have, as you say, oh-so-important things I have to get done, and as for my 'twin', I promised our grandmother I'd keep him out of trouble, and you, Aubergine - Ah, my delightful Aubergine, YOU are trouble personified," and Philip was shocked at that warm sensuous laugh coming from his cousin, the flattering tone, the appreciative look the woman received along with a gentle kiss to the knuckles of her outstretched hand clad in that purple lace glove.

{"If he can be that charming to a woman who truly LOOKS a little like an eggplant in a wig with furry caterpillars on her eyes, it would be interesting to see him with someone else, someone more likely! She is actually blushing, at least I think so, though with all that rouge on top of the white basecoat, it's a little hard to tell for sure."} 

On their way out the back door Philip trod heavily on his cousin's heels. Well, he was in a hurry to get out of there before Garrison changed his mind and took off without him. Garrison looked back, gave a knowing chuckle.

"Relax, cousin. I wouldn't have left you; believe me, you are NOT up to her speed. I'm pretty sure I'm not up to her speed either, if it gives you any comfort. I've never had the courage to find out, but Actor tends to go two shades paler, if a little wistful, whenever her name is mentioned, so I figure that is just safe to assume." 

They met up with the others, the uniforms Goniff had come up with were donned, and Craig and Actor made their stately way to the front entrance of their target in the gleaming staff car Chief, now in a sharp uniform of his own, had obtained. 

The others? That key Garrison had obtained from Aubergine brought them through a series of gates almost invisible in the shadows of the line of great houses, til they came to the one marked with a tiny symbol. 

Once inside, Philip watched with interest as they silently went about their jobs, Goniff motioning Philip to the other side of the entry door to keep watch while Casino managed first one safe, then, after a brief search, the second one hidden in the lower panel of an innocent looking wall. A second bundle of papers was stuffed inside his jacket, and then the safecracker took a careful look around, his attention being caught for some reason by something on the far side of the room.

"That it, Casino?" Goniff hissed impatiently, having already located and snatched the leather-bound codebook from the bookcase set off to the side. "Don't 'ave time to spare on this one!" That hadn't stopped the pickpocket from surveying the various goodies set around, but he'd quickly determined none of them were worth the effort. Well, except for that odd little book that seemed a little more promising than most; that he slipped into his jacket, settling it firmly into place. 

Philip agreed about needing to stick with the agenda, frowned at the delay, though he said nothing about either Casino's distraction or Goniff's new acquisition, something he knew quite well had NOT been in their orders. Still, surely Craig wouldn't encourage impromptu action like this, the men acting on their own! Then he shook his head in disgust at the naivete of that thought. {"With these guys, I wouldn't be surprised if 'impromptu action' wasn't pretty much the norm!"}

"Yeah, yeah. Just got a feeling about . . ." Then a grunt as the drawer on a side table gave way to Casino's prodding, revealing a folder containing numerous letters still in their envelopes. "Yeah! Didn't the Warden say this guy's all buddy-buddy with one of the big shots in Berlin? Some a these got his name all over them. Might be worth carrying back."

"Well, tuck them away and let's get with it!" Goniff insisted, taking another look out the crack in the door. "They're bound to be out and gone by now; will be looking for us."

And they left, silently, the same way they came in, nothing out of place to show they'd ever been there. Well, until whoever those papers, those letters belonged to went looking for them. With any luck, they'd be long gone before then.

On the way back Philip learned precisely why his cousin didn't discourage a little impromptu activity, a little independent thinking. Those letters, the ones from that side table - the contents of those, hinting of activities Berlin would NOT approve of, would bring down several highly-placed individuals. Or, as Garrison explained with a wicked grin, "at least give us some serious leverage. I wonder - since we're here - ," to the accompaniment of groans from the others.

"Fine, Craig, I agree the letters could prove quite useful. But perhaps we can leave applying that leverage to someone ELSE? Surely we have accomplished enough for one trip? The person involved in those letters is in a different country entirely from where we are," Actor chided.

Well, the leverage might have been left to someone else, but as far as that 'accomplishing enough for one trip', obviously Garrison didn't agree, not when Philip totaled the other activities they'd been involved in before making their exit. 

"A bridge blown to hell. An ammunition convoy misdirected to where the Underground could ambush them. I'm surprised he didn't decide to march on Berlin and try to kidnap Eva Braun to exert some leverage in that line!" Philip exclaimed while Actor bandaged the graze on his forearm.

"Well, the lieutenant, 'e does 'ate making a long trip like this and not get the full benefit," Goniff explained, wincing as Chief wiped the blood away from that cut along his jaw.

"Yeah, like he always says, "since we're already HERE. . .!" Sheesh, some day I'd like to go on one of these little jaunts and just do the freakin' job and go home!"

"Can it," Garrison ordered. He'd had his own injuries treated earlier, the guys insisting on it since he was leaking at a greater rate than anyone else. "Finish up. We're heading out; exit in two hours with any luck. Unless -" and the guys repeated in unison in a resigned chorus "unless something interesting shows up!" 

Garrison paused, gave them each a long look, an approving nod, letting them know without a word they'd done well, that he was proud of each and every one of them. Philip found it interesting how even the weariest of the lot straightened and nodded back, acknowledging that gesture. He'd even gotten an approving nod of his own, found himself responding with a similar one.

Somehow, although he'd never thought it in the beginning, he was going to miss these guys, even miss his cousin Craig maybe. An odd thought, one he'd never have considered possible.

Several months had passed since that observation/initiation. 

Captain, soon to be Major, Philip Garrison was back in Canada. No, being a Special Forces Team Leader wasn't for him, he had to admit. He was military, yes, intended to stay military all the way up the ladder, but Special Forces, especially leading a Special Forces team, was something else, REQUIRED something else. He'd never been able to successfully describe just what that SOMETHING ELSE was, even to himself, though he'd tried many a time. And that his Cousin Craig was actually successful, HIGHLY successful at such a thing still amazed him.

On leave, he'd spent a goodly amount of time with his father, retired military, discussing the matter. 

"And Cousin Craig, of all people! Uncle would have had an absolute fit, I know that! It's not for me, but I admit, it was something to watch, Dad. You'd think there wasn't one chance in hell of them working together, not a chance in hell of them getting the job done, those men of his, but they did. Wisecracking, complaining, enough you wouldn't think they had a serious side to them, then things get hot and they're the coolest lot of professionals you'd ever meet! And Craig? It was like watching - oh, I don't know how to describe it. Maybe a ringmaster at the circus, only along with being one of those plate-twirlers with the long poles. YOU know - keeping a dozen things going at the same time, just enough control, not a hair too much or too little! 

"Somehow I always thought Craig would be just like my uncle, iron-fisted in every way possible. I remember you saying your brother shouldn't be allowed near a horse or a dog or any animal; that he'd insist on such absolute obedience, hold such a steel grip that nothing would survive with any spirit left, that he'd crush anything that was there just because he wouldn't stand to be defied."

"But you got along, you and Craig?" his father had asked, curious.

Well, Philip had to admit it was a fair question; they really hadn't as children, not that they were around each other more than once in a blue moon.

Philip shrugged, "well enough, surprisingly, after a rough start. Maybe Miz Nancy B was right; maybe we are more alike than we thought. She always swore we were, that we'd come to see that in time; would become friends before it was all over. That hasn't happened, but I think we're farther along. Damn, I still miss her, you know, her and Grandma Lindy?"

While Miz Nancy B had been Craig's grandmother, not Philip's, still she and Philip's own grandmother Lindy had been good friends, and Philip had spent considerable time at Nancy B's house, playing in the gardens, eating all the good things she'd serve up. Had even spent time there convalescing once when he'd taken sick on a visit. 

He'd thought she was almost as nice as his own grandmother Lindy, and sometimes he pretended she WAS his grandmother, especially after Lindy passed on. Philip would have been jealous of Craig for that reason alone, that he had Miz Nancy B, except it seemed Craig didn't get to spend much more time there than he did, probably even less. Miz Nancy B passed on before either boy reached their teens, but still, that jealousy, a sense of competition for who she should like best, who DESERVED to be liked best, that remained, and not just on one side.

The timing could not have been worse. Garrison was off on a top-secret operation even London HQ was unaware of (well, except for the one who'd sent him on that mission). Obviously, since part of that operation was determining whether two or three high-ranking officers in that august company were acting as double-agents, it hardly would have been bruited about. 

And the situation was sensitive enough that NO ONE could let it be known Garrison was even away, for fear someone would put two and two together and hit the jackpot. Supposedly he and the team were doing some deep-level training for a new job, one that prohibited anyone just dropping by and accidentally discovering Garrison's absence. It should have worked, probably would have worked, if fate, in the form of Major Kingston, hadn't intervened. 

As far as anyone could tell, Kingston didn't have anything special mind, just more of his typical interferring in things not any of his concern, but that didn't help with the resulting conflicting requirements on Craig Garrison.

Actor shared the disturbing news he'd just received. The review board regarding that Amsterdam mission had been called, was scheduled for one week later. And Lieutenant Craig Garrison had been summoned to appear, to testify. Some fast talking by a confederate in London had given them a little leeway, since originally it was supposed to be in two days, but one week was the farthest out anyone would agree to. No excuses, no hesitation, no being thirty seconds late - he was to BE there, uniform sharply pressed, his information solidly in hand, or at least on the tip of his tongue. 

And there was absolutely no way that other job would be finished in time, not from what they'd been told before their leader had left. They were figuring another three weeks, maybe a month, at least before Garrison would be back!

"I understand the MP's will be dispatched immediately to locate and detain him if he does not appear."

"And just how the hell is he supposed to do that, you tell me, Beautiful?! Be two places at the same time? The Warden's good, but even he ain't THAT good!" Casino exploded. 

"Pappy's right, Actor. Not even like both jobs are in the same city where a fast car would help if we had a few distractions. Warden's job's back in the States; review board's in London. Don't need a fast car; even a plane wouldn't do the trick, not without someone catching on. We'd need two Garrison's," Chief said, his knife making a solid kerplunk as it pierced the paneling in the far wall, the sound echoing his frustration.

The con man nodded serenely, having already thought that far ahead.

"And is it not lucky that we know where to find that 'second' Garrison?"

Goniff's eyes widened, then he nodded enthusiastically. "Right you are! 'Is cousin Philip; over in Canada, right? And I know Ian's in town visiting Meghada! Never too far away from one of those airplanes of 'is! 'E could be over there, do a pickup, get the job done, get 'Garrison Two' back before anyone knows any different!"

Casino snorted with disgust. "You don't really think he's gonna help, do you? Yeah, he seemed like an okay guy, but don't seem like they're all that close, and if this goes wrong, it's not just the Warden's career that goes up in smoke."

"Ain't got much choice, do we?" Goniff argued. "Can't just pull 'im out til 'e gets the job done. Likely to get 'im killed, nevermind all those depending on 'im! That 'appens, you know w'ere we stand! And if 'e don't show at that 'review board' thing, 'e can just kiss 'is career goodbye, and us our parole too." The thing was, he wasn't all that sure what dodge to use to get Captain Philip Garrison to agree to what had to sound like a mad caper indeed. The man had seemed likeable enough, but this was a bit much, risky in the extreme. 

Still he pressed on. "And 'e said 'e owed us one, though I doubt 'e 'ad anything like this in mind - probably more like buying us a pint sometime, but not like we 'ave much else to lean on. So, okay, we can't just send Ian with a message; we 'ave to go ourselves to fetch 'im. But I bet we can get it done, right Actor? You're the one with all the experience at a good con. So come up with something!" their pickpocket demanded.

And so it was that Captain Philip Garrison arrived back at his quarters to be met by four somber men, men spinning a tale of needing a magician, one who could work with illusion and mirrors, "though hopefully without all the smoke. Well, smoke usually comes with explosions and we could do without any of those," Casino had added to Actor's calm rendition of their joint problem.

He never quite knew how they did it, but somehow he found himself agreeing to be gathered up, tucked into the back of a speeding car and then into a small airplane. He wondered, later, if he HADN'T agreed, whether he still wouldn't have ended up in exactly the same place!

{"I always KNEW you were trouble, Cousin! I swear, if I come through this, we're going to have a good long talk about a few things! 'Impromptu activities' may BE your team's norm, but not mine!"}

Philip was aghast at what he'd let himself get involved in. Not just at the risks involved, what his own superiors in his own chain of command would have to say {"right before they courtmartial me, most likely! Perhaps I should look on this review board as practice!"}, but the sheer volume of information he was supposed to memorize, have right at his fingertips when asked. 

Actor gave him the official story, but each man had added in their own parts of that Amsterdam operation. Philip found it fascinating, in an appalling sort of way. He thought they were telling him at least part of the truth, not exaggerating, which had been his first impression. 

His bigger fear now was that they WERE perhaps tampering with the truth, but not in the overblowing things direction, but in quite the opposite. From what he remembered (as if he could ever forget!) from that one mission he'd gone along on, that wouldn't really be surprising. Terrifying, yes, but not surprising.

What he DID find surprising was the note of sincere affection that cropped up so frequently when they were discussing Craig, his leadership, his actions, his quirks, and much else. Oh, the respect was there, no doubt about that, even admiration for what his cousin was capable of, but affection was something you wouldn't have been expecting, even after he'd seen them all in action, in the field. 

{"Certainly it wouldn't have been that, not if he was anything like his father! Even the respect - you didn't so much respect my uncle; it was more like you were wary, careful never to show anything he might consider disrespect, never wanting him to turn his anger against you. I know I wouldn't have wanted to serve under him, that's for sure!"}

One set of directions in particular stood out. Although there were chairs available, one of which Philip was occupying, Goniff had preferred to perch on top of the chest of drawers near the window, lit cigarette drooping from the side of his mouth, gazing out into the silent landscape beyond. 

Actor had just left, after having given what Philip thought was a suspiciously thorough background into what the review board would probably look like, who would be there, whether in charge or just present. It included who he should recognize and how, what questions would be asked, the answers best to be given and even how, right down to the tone of voice he should use, what expression he should have on his face. 

Just where and how the con man knew all that, Philip decided it was best not to inquire.

Then, just when Philip was preparing to review his notes in order to try and remember all of what Actor had shared, Goniff had shown up. 

Giving Philip a thorough looking over, head to toe, a deeper and more knowing appraisal than anyone other than his parents had ever given him, the blond thief shook his head in obvious frustration. 

With one quick movement, the pickpocket was atop that piece of furniture, pushing the few items there to one side to make room, making himself comfortable for what he obviously considered a trial to his patience, one he seemed to feel really SHOULDN'T have been necessary.

In the approaching dusk, with his knees bent into his chest and one arm wrapped around them, leaving the other hand free for that cigarette, Philip thought Craig's pickpocket looked somewhat like a figure from one of the Alice in Wonderland illustrations, or maybe Grimm's Fairy Tales. {"Or one of those fanciful tales Miz Nancy B used to tell about the elves and fairies and brownies that lived in her garden!"}.

He waited apprehensively as Goniff sighed, took one long drag off the cigarette and slowly turned his head to look directly at Philip.

"Didn't think I'd need to be doing this, telling you all this right out," he said fretfully. "Always thought of it as 'that Garrison flair', you know, w'at 'e's got, but now it seems it might just be 'is OWN flair since it don't seem like you 'ave any of it at all!"

Philip didn't really understand any of that, never having heard anyone mention a 'Garrison flair', well, other than Aubergine, but he was pretty sure he'd just been dissed. 

Once Goniff really got going, Philip was sure of it. It might not have been ill-meant, but still it was clear that, in the pickpocket's mind anyway, Craig came out way ahead in any comparison between the two cousins, on any level. Philip thought about being offended, but he was finding this all far too interesting, even amusing, to have room for that.

"I know Actor showed you 'ow you need to be combing your 'air; not a lot different than you do now, but just a bit. Start practicing that; shouldn't be a problem, I'd think, but you want to be able to just use your fingers to push it into place, casual, you know, not need a mirror or such. The color's the same, down to a shade, so no problem there. 

"The way you stand, 'old yourself, at least w'en you're being all officer-like, that's pretty much the same - all that military training, I expect - so they're not going to see much different, especially with that review board being sort of a stressful thing, formal and all, in the first place. Wouldn't expect you to be all relaxed, would they now, which is a stroke of luck since there really IS a difference there. Just as well you don't 'ave to learn any of that; there's enough else for you to focus on. 

"Now, you'll need to keep your eyes from meeting theirs straight on. Not avoiding them, of course, to get them thinking you're not telling them the truth. Like that 'as anything to do with it, no matter w'at some think! I've found that useful, many a time, though, people believing that nonsense; just lock my baby blues on someone's glimmers and they'll believe most anything if you do it right. 

"Anyway, YOU watch their fore'ead, their nose, even their chin, close to their eyes but staying away from direct eye-to-eye. It's too dangerous since you probably don't 'ave the knack to carry it off. Like 'Gaida says you need to do with a vampire, not that I'm all that interested in giving THAT a try. Might turn out I didn't 'ave a knack for it, then w'ere'd I be?" Goniff offered casually, ignoring that look of disbelieving shock Philip gave him.

"Besides, your eyes may be green, like 'is, but just not quite the right shade. Jade, yours put me in mind of, not emeralds. Not far off, but enough if anyone's ever really LOOKED. Pity you can't wear them dark glasses 'e wears sometimes, but doubt that'd be allowed inside with all them 'igher-up officers and all. Most likely none WILL notice, the color's fairly close, even if 'is are nicer; they might just put it down to the lighting, but no sense taking the chance. Best not get too close to anyone in the outside light, though.

"And I'll get you a new dress uniform to start breaking in, tomorrow. You need to wear it enough each day between now and then; not so much as for it to not still be nice and fresh, but enough so it don't look totally new w'en you 'ead up to London. Already 'ave Mrs. Wilson putting on the final touches there - a bit bigger than w'at 'e 'as in the closet, least the pants. Maybe the jacket too, we'll see; might 'ave to for it not to look obvious, but the pants for sure."

Philip had protested. He'd already check that, even tried on the uniforms just to be sure. They fit just fine.

"There's no need for that; I'm sure Craig's dress uniform will do just fine. We ARE the same size, Goniff; I checked."

Goniff huffed in amusement, giving Philip a look the captain just didn't understand. 

"Same size maybe, but not the SAME. No offence, Captain, but frankly, you just don't 'ave all that 'same size' SHAPED the same as the lieutenant. Again, MAYBE no one would notice, but can't count on that. More likely to notice that even than the eyes, I'D think. 

"See, once you notice a truly fine arse like 'is, really notice, not likely you'll NOT take the time to notice next time around, enough to be a little disappointed with the change. Maybe enough to start to wonder, even if it's just wondering who managed to muck up 'is uniform so much that it don't fit near as nice as usual, not enough to show 'im off so well. Thing is, we don't need anyone starting to wonder, not about anything, now do we?"

Philip had been slightly (maybe more than slightly) offended at THAT critique. He'd never had any negative comments on his own arse, hadn't noticed Craig's being any better, certainly. {"Not that I specifically CHECKED, of course, certainly hadn't made any specific comparisons. And why are we even DISCUSSING my 'arse'??"}

He let his indignation show on his face, noticing the wry knowing grin he got in return. Obviously his indignation wasn't going to keep Goniff from dealing with all the salient points he'd come prepared to deliver.

"Oh, and Actor might not think to mention it, but the lieutenant, 'e dresses on the other side. You want to start practicing that now, make sure you don't forget; not easy making that switch without a little practice, getting everything to fit just right for w'en you're walking or standing or sitting, you know. Can't let yourself be uncomfortable or you'll SHOW you're uncomfortable, and why should you be, they'll be asking themselves. And you can't be forgetting. A shame to start out right, then 'ave them declare a break during that meeting, you go to the john and forget and come back showing different. 

"Any other differences, well, that new uniform being not so well fitting will make any such not so noticeable, ei? Mrs. Wilson was some put out about making things NOT fit so well, but she tries to oblige even w'en there's no way we can rightly explain the why of things. So, you'll show up not quite as crisp and tight and polished as w'at 'e usually looks, but that can't be 'elped. 

"Least you've been cut, like 'im; that could 'ave been a problem otherwise. See, if you weren't, if you turned wrong, sat back in your chair at the wrong angle, could be even the different pants might not quite do the job. Glad we didn't 'ave to figure out 'ow to deal then. Expect we could 'ave, but probably best we didn't need to, not with as little time as we 'ave." 

That matter-of-fact statement left Philip staring in consternation.

{"Oh, for the love of . . .!"}, Philip thought, not sure whether to laugh or curse or scold. 

Of course, the Cockney was probably right, not that it was comfortable thinking anybody would be checking him out THAT closely. And after a lifetime's habit, it would be easy enough to forget and go back to his usual ways of dress. Yes, practice over the next few days would probably be adviseable. And yes, he too was grateful he and his cousin had both been circumcised. Heaven knows what the pickpocket would have suggested if Philip HADN'T been! He was uncomfortably aware that Goniff, along with the others, were highly inventive and just as equally determined that this mad deception go off without a hitch! He had a disturbing image of Chief and that blade of his and shuddered in instinctive reaction. {"No, they wouldn't go that far!"}

Still, this was one of the most personal conversations - well, lectures, perhaps - he'd had since he turned thirteen and his father had sat him down for a serious discussion!

"Now, let's talk about 'ow 'e manages a cigarette. Got a certain flair there too, like with most else. 'Ere, watch, I'll show you. Lucky 'e left 'is spare lighter in the drawer. Now, watch me, then you give it a try." 

That voice, that face - both were encouraging but totally relentless in their determination to impart a little 'Garrison flair' on someone the pickpocket found to be so inexplicably unequipped with the same.

By the time the long session was ended and Philip was trying to remember all the things, the motions, the expressions he was supposed to master, he was wondering if CRAIG knew himself half as well as that infuriating little pickpocket obviously did. 

{"I know no one who works for me could tell you one hundredth of any of that. At least I hope to hell no one could!"}, he thought as he tried once again to get that cigarette-lighting thing down to an instinctive level.

At least, he THOUGHT that was what he thought, that hint of a doubt nudging at him. That deep level of knowledge had been matched with an equally deep level of fondness that was rather enviable. It had even brought out a new twinge of jealousy, or maybe just a wistfulness that it would be nice to have someone who thought HIS individual sort of flair was superior to all others. Oh well, he'd consider all of that later.

The drive up to London had been quiet, just an occasional word of encouragement from Garrison's Sergeant Major Rawlins, acting as chauffeur. As unhappy as they were with the decision, the men had stayed behind, knowing there'd be little they could add to a positive outcome. As far as any additional coaching on the trip up, well, if the man didn't have it down by now, that probably wouldn't help any anyway. It would be an uneasy time back at the Mansion, though, til they heard the results of their hard work.

"You'll be fine, sir," Gill said, seeing Philip start to tense up once again. "Even got the walk down right, and wasn't sure you would. Seemed like you couldn't quite figure out w'at each leg was supposed to do for awhile, but then you settled in nicely. Can't see anything to cue someone in that you're not 'im, not in the short time you should be out and about with the job."

Well, it hadn't been easy, but with all the hectoring Philip had gotten, especially from Goniff, it was either figure it out or go deaf or go mad! It had been far easier memorizing all the details of that Amsterdam job.

And yes, now he was VERY sure there was a lot more to that episode than he was being told, but since none of that was likely to be something he should be sharing with this review board anyway, nothing CRAIG would have been sharing, he knew he'd have to wait til afterwards to demand the rest of the story. Not that he was sure he'd get it, but it had to be one hell of a tale!

They were halfway to their destination when Philip asked the non-com something that had been puzzling him. 

"I've been told repeatedly that I don't have 'that Garrison flair', but no one tells me what that 'flair' IS. Not specifically, anyway. Do YOU know, Sergeant Major? I truly am curious."

Rawlins snorted at the question. "Did you try asking the lads?"

"Yes, and they each say he HAS it, but when I listen to their explanations, they don't seem to be speaking of the same thing, any of the four of them."

That got a sidewise glance from Rawlins, then a slow nod. The Canadian had gained the respect and trust of the entire crew, Rawlins included. Otherwise, the non com would have just given a fast "really couldn't say, sir," instead of trying to explain how he saw things.

"And I can see that. There's probably a bit in common, but it probably comes down to w'at they admire or respect most about 'im, and that differs. Sometimes it might be w'at they see of themselves reflected in 'im, though maybe at a 'igher level; other times, w'at they see in 'im they'd like to 'ave in themselves but maybe don't, or at least think they don't. That probably don't 'elp in answering your question, though.

"See, Actor, 'e admires the way the lieutenant can come up with and work a con, just like 'E can; can switch characters one breath to another, just smooth as silk, along with 'aving the education to meet most anyone 'ead-on in a discussion. Actor would be missing that, the last part, with just the other three. So likely that is part of w'at 'e sees as the 'Garrison flair', someone a lot like 'imself in certain ways. 

"Well, Actor, for all 'e'd never admit it, would be offended if you said it, really IS the simplest of the lot. 'E looks in the mirror and sees w'at 'e thinks everyone else should TRY to be, though most would fall far short of 'IM, of course. 'E'd find 'imself 'ardpressed to admit to admiring anything other than that mirror image, so 'that Garrison flair' is a lot like w'at Actor sees as 'is OWN 'flair'.

"Chief, that the lieutenant is near as good with a blade as 'e is, as good on the course, the physical part - that's part of the 'flair'. More than that is the way Garrison don't look down on 'im, seems to see worthwhile things inside the boy, considers 'IM worthwhile. Now, the rest do too, me right along with them, but for someone like the lieutenant, the one in charge and all, to do that, trust 'im, teach 'im things and not look down on 'im, that's something Chief 'asn't 'ad, that I can see. 'E'd see that as part of the 'Garrison flair', along with that example getting Actor to follow along too."

Philip thought that all made sense; he'd seen that during that initial time he'd spent with his cousin and the team.

"And Casino, Sergeant Major? He's got so much 'flair' of his own, if you want to call it that - I'm a little surprised he recognizes any sort OTHER than his own. He doesn't seem to with Actor, seems disdainful at best, and his interaction with Chief is more big-brotherly than anything else, and something similar with Goniff, though with a stronger dose of annoyance ready to spill out. Not contempt, not really, but ever ready to be irritated, you know."

"You know that show business saying, 'the show must go on'? Casino just likes to keep the show going, if you know w'at I mean," Rawlins offered in a comfortable tone. Seeing the confusion on Philip's face, the non com grinned. 

"No, you don't, do you? Casino I see as being a lot like my brother used to be - who and w'at 'e was in private was nothing like w'at 'e was with 'is chums, on the job, and all. Mum used to wonder at that, said it was like 'aving THREE sons, not just two, w'en people would speak of 'im, the things 'e be up to or say. Well, come to think on it, Casino and Goniff are BOTH like that. They've decided, for w'atever reason, 'ow they needed to be seen, and they figured out w'at was needed, and they built it all up and wear it like a suit of clothes. Now, Casino, 'e don't change that suit much; just that rough and tough character 'e figured out did the trick, that's w'at 'e sticks with. Goniff, that's a different story, of course.

"Anyway, Casino - in a way, a lot of w'at 'e sees in the lieutenant is w'at Casino went out of 'is way to build into that image 'e carries around. All the self-confidence, the swagger, the 'do it my way' attitude - and Casino likes that. That's w'at 'e'd consider a big part of the 'Garrison flair'. Probably a bit envious of that, since it seems to come so natural to the lieutenant, and Casino 'as to work at it a bit sometimes. Sometimes that causes them to go 'ead to 'ead too, but even that works out for the team, since w'en 'e pushes back, the lieutenant stops and thinks through again, just to be sure 'e's looking at things right. Over-confident our lieutenant, sometimes, or so it seems to me; a counterweight does no 'arm. 

"Sometimes there's another pushback. W'at Casino sees as part of 'is OWN flair, that 'women adore me and I can 'ave any one of them I want at any time' part, that tends to get 'im ticked at the lieutenant, since the lieutenant 'as the makings for that, but backs off using it except once in a while. I think Casino almost looks at that like a slap in the face, like it makes 'IM look bad, maybe. Keeps trying to bring the man around to 'is way of thinking, pushing 'im to make the show. Don't see that 'appening, though. Tends more toward Actor's style with that, the lieutenant does; well, at least more of w'at Actor would consider the 'sophisticated approach'. So Casino is the one more uncomfortable with 'that Garrison flair'; it seems to make 'is own seem a little 'off' and 'e knows it, don't much like it."

Philip hoped that would make sense later; right now it didn't, so he headed the conversation in a different direction.

"Goniff. You said 'that's a different story', and I have to agree. It seems like Goniff has a dozen of those 'suits' rolled up waiting to be put on, depending. Does that affect how he sees 'that Garrison flair'? He seems to have a far more defined outlook on that than the others, more complicated, perhaps."

"Goniff?" Rawlins snorted with amusement. "A dozen suits, probably more, depending on w'at's needed, though w'en 'e first got 'ere, I'd 'ave sworn otherwise. Simple to figure out and no more complicated than a clever street pigeon, I thought; eager to find a bit of food or an attractive bit of pebble or stone 'ere or there, but not putting much thought into it, or into anything else, ready to fly away safe if there was a tussle. 'Ave a friend, though, up in the East End. Made mention of knowing 'im, I did, and that got a laugh rightly enough. "Which 'IM do you think you know, Gil?" Didn't say more, they didn't, likely not wanting to spoil 'is play, but it got me to thinking, watching, and it didn't take long. Even after this long, still don't know which 'IM is real. Maybe, in some ways, they all are. 

"But as far as 'e sees 'that Garrison flair', that's different than the others, yes. 'E's the one who DON'T see any of 'imself in the lieutenant, though 'e sees plenty to admire and respect there, to like. I don't think 'e could pick out any one thing, but I swear 'e SEES every little bit of w'at the lieutenant is, and seems to approve of most all of it, and w'at 'e don't necessarily APPROVE of, just shrugs and accepts as being part of who the man is. Think 'e's just fine as 'e is, don't seem to think many improvements are needed. Oh, there's been a thing or two that caused some grief, but they talked it through, and it was the lieutenant who changed, seemed to agree those were things that NEEDED changing. No, I don't 'ave the details, just something about w'at 'appened on a job or two. 

"I know if anyone can argue the lieutenant out of being so 'ard on 'imself w'en things don't go the way 'e planned, it's Goniff, and 'e don't mince words neither. And w'at's maybe more surprising, the lieutenant tends to listen, too. 

"So, to answer your question - for Goniff, the lieutenant, all of 'im, that pretty much IS 'that Garrison flair', and no matter 'ow you try, all you learn and can mimic all those actions and such, no matter 'ow much you look like 'im, you'll never 'AVE 'that Garrison flair', not for Goniff, because no matter w'at, you AIN'T 'im. Does that make any sense?" Gil asked.

Phillip thought, then laughed. "I'm probably mad for thinking this, but it actually does." 

That actually made him feel a lot better, less offended at the frustration in Goniff's face when Philip just couldn't quite meet whatever mark the pickpocket had set. Knowing that mark was something he COULDN'T meet, because of all the intangibles involved, that made what Philip HAD accomplished seem much more of a worthwhile thing. 

{"Still, I have to wonder what sort of a 'flair' I might have. I don't think I have the nerve to ask the guys; I sure as hell can't ask Goniff. My self-esteem isn't high enough to be dealt the blow that would most likely result!"}

He thought about asking how Rawlins saw 'that Garrison flair', but they were pulling up alongside the building where that review would be held, and he pulled his mind back to the task at hand. From now on, he WAS Lieutenant Craig Garrison, one hundred percent, flair and all. He just hoped and prayed it would be enough.

Major Richards hadn't intended to visit that room today. Well, why would he, when he knew quite well Lieutenant Garrison wouldn't be appearing as ordered. He wasn't even supposed to know the review board had been called, his having been away for the past several days; he suspected that lack of communication had been quite intentional. 

He DID have his Aide watching, through an intermediary, to alert him when it started to hit the fan - when he'd need to intervene, deliver a solid, defensible reason Garrison hadn't shown up. It was a pity to have to go to that extreme, but he hoped his (entirely fictitious) explanation would suffice. He certainly couldn't tell the board the truth, that Garrison was out investigating the possibility of traitors in their midst, especially since one of the board itself - Colonel Decker - was on that short-list of possibles.

Still, when Private Ames hurried in to report that Lieutenant Garrison, contrary to Richards' expectations, had just arrived, just entered that board room, Richards hastened to pull his jacket straighter, run a smoothing hand over his hair, and hurried off to witness this surprising turn of events. Gaining admission was accomplished with just a raised brow and a commanding motion of his hand, and he slipped in, took a seat in one of the seats in the back row.

{"Interesting. Rather more than interesting, in fact,"} and he listened as the questions were put forth, the calm and professional answers being given in return. He himself knew the details of that mission, had been the one who'd assigned it to Garrison and his team; he'd read the official report, had performed the debriefing after the job had been successfully completed. 

{"Not a word out of place, not a gesture you wouldn't expect. Perhaps he really IS a magician as some have claimed."}

When it was over, when the board declared themselves satisfied, he'd been waiting to offer Lieutenant Garrison a congratulatory word. Well, actually, he'd wanted to get close enough to look the man square in the eye, see if a closer examination would bring anything different to light.

"Major Richards," Garrison had offered with a salute, not hesitating in his recognition of his sometimes-Handler.

"Lieutenant Garrison. Most admirable performance, I must say. You do have a remarkable memory for details, as I've often said," Richards said with a bland smile.

That got a smile, a gracious nod in return. They walked down the hall, then out of the building together. Pausing on the steps, Richards turned to Garrison, and made a suggestion.

"Shall we adjourn someplace less formal, Lieutenant? Perhaps Charles might like to offer his personal congratulations as well," came as a gracious but intentionally vague invitation.

{"Was that a flicker of doubt, of hesitation?"} Richards thought. Well, if this WASN'T Garrison, he surely would have no way of knowing Charles was their customary waiter at the private club where the two occasionally had a drink and a meal. That was information far too inconsequential for anyone else to have known or bothered to acquire.

Then came a flash of recognition in those green eyes, along with a regretful smile. 

"My thanks, Major, but not right now. I'm afraid Charles will have to offer his congratulations another time. The Club is out of the question right now, unfortunately, though a drink and a quiet meal DOES sound inviting. Perhaps another time. I really do need to get back. I left a few things unattended to in the race to get here in time for the review board meeting."

For the first time, Richards seriously had doubts about his suspicions.

When that car came out of nowhere, jumped the curb and sped off, the glancing blow knocked them both to the cold concrete - when Richards pulled himself to his feet, then helped the staggering Garrison to his, he was pretty sure he WAS wrong. Who but Garrison could have that happen in the middle of London, in front of one of the HQ buildings itself? The man had a veritable flair for getting himself bunged up and bloodied!

The firm refusal of medical care, the rapid announcement by Sergeant Major Rawlins that "I'll see 'e's taken care of, Major. Doubt 'e's more than just a bit bruised," and their speedy departure had those doubts rising once again. 

{"IS he truly a magician? Or is there an entire team of magicians at work here?"}. Again an image of those green eyes, eyes brought into such close proximity by that incident, flashed in front of him and Richards smiled knowingly to himself. {"Jade, not emerald; definitely jade."}

Two days later, Garrison, Lieutenant Craig Garrison that is, heaved a deep sigh of relief. "So that's the gist of it, Major. Colonel Decker is in the clear; Colonel James and Major Alston are in this up to their eyebrows. The evidence is all in here," he motioned to the briefcase sitting on the desk of the borrowed office the two were using to bring matters up to date. 

{"NOW maybe I can get back to my own responsibilities. God knows what the team has managed to get themselves involved in after all this time."} he thought as he snapped Richards a crisp salute, turned and headed for the door. 

Major Kevin Richards' voice stopped him, and he turned to give his attention to the officer who'd sent him on his odd assignment.

"Oh, by the way, Lieutenant Garrison. There is another matter I wanted to mention, actually, to congratulate you on. As you know, I am one who likes to encourage my leaders to learn new skills, or enhance the ones they already have, and you have frequently shown considerable progress along those lines. However, I must admit you have sincerely impressed me, far beyond the usual, with this latest addition to your repertoire," Richards offered with a serene and knowing smile.

"Oh?" Garrison asked cautiously. Not the most eloquent response, probably, but there was something about that glint in Richards' silvery eyes that set the hackles on the back of Garrison's neck to fluttering.

"Yes. I know I've heard of you referred to as many things, a magician being among the more acceptable ones, but I never realized just how adept you truly are at the casting of an illusion. Surely a new skill or a significant enhancement, at least. 

"This latest episode for example. The somehow managing to be in Washington, doing this little job for us and in far less time than I'd had originally anticipated, AND at the same time appearing before a review board in London requiring a thorough debriefing of the Amsterdam assignment. Quite adept, I must say. I sat there, in the back row, out of curiosity you see, since I'd spoken to you not an hour earlier by secure line, and was simply amazed at how real it all seemed. Certainly those on the board, those asking the questions and considering your answers thought it so. You must tell me, someday, how you managed it. Smoke and mirrors, perhaps?"

Garrison ground his teeth together, then managed a polite smile. "A good magician never reveals his secrets, Major. Surely you know that."

That got a short burst of laughter from Major Richards as Garrison carefully closed the office door and headed back to figure out what the hell had been going on while he was gone.

The trip back to Brandonshire was accomplished in record time, and they heard the car door slam even from the Common Room where they were gathered.

"Ouch! You think he knows?" Casino asked warily.

The roar from downstairs was their answer. 

"MY OFFICE!! NOW!!! ON THE DOUBLE!!!!"

"Yeah, Pappy," Chief grinned, getting up from his chair to head downstairs with the rest of them. "I figure he knows. Enough anyway. Question is, who's gonna explain all the little details?"

Goniff nodded firmly, "that's w'at a SIC is for, right, Actor?" giving the con man an innocent encouraging smile. From the look on Actor's face, he wasn't all that eager to take up that task despite the encouragement, the confidence being expressed.

Captain Philip Garrison laughed, setting his glass down in preparation to joining them on that trek down the stairs. 

"Don't worry. I'll help, Actor. Didn't I hear someone recently say the trick is knowing just what TO say and what NOT to say? I like to think I'm a quick learner. Let's see if I've got it right."

Craig and Philip were in the library for one last evening together before Ian arrived the next afternoon to spirit Philip back to Canada. 

Philip had been assured no one would question his absence for these several days; he could only hope that was an accurate assumption. It had been interesting, he wasn't sorry in the least to have participated, but he WOULD hate for his career in the military to turn into a pile of ashes.

It was late, the men safely settled into the dorm, or so it would appear from those hearty "night, Lieutenant, Captain. See you in the morning!" they'd been given as the smiling men had trouped away at the end of the congenial evening. 

Garrison admitted to his cousin that that might not be the case, them being safely settled in. 

"If you hear singing later, very bad singing, not in harmony or in unison, possibly not even the same song from each of them, that means they slipped out for a little celebratory trip to the pub."

Philip grinned, "and you let them get away with it. Very strict discipline maintained, just like I'd expect of you, Cousin. A firm grip on the reins at all times." 

Once, that show of just how loose Craig held those reins would have filled him with a sense of superiority; anymore, it evoked a much different response. If that's what it took to gain that much steadfast loyalty from men like these, it was worthy of respect, even envy. 

Whatever hold his cousin had over these men, strict discipline wasn't a huge part of it; that much was obvious. Philip was still figuring out what that hold might consist of; he thought it would be most illuminating. He wasn't sure much of any of it was applicable to his own career, but still, interesting.

Any lingering notion that Craig was a younger version of his father was gone. Philip was sure Craig's father, a military martinet of the first degree, would have had an apoplexy at Craig's even being connected with this team, these men, much less all the rest. Philip wondered vaguely whether that should give him pause, but then shrugged in dismissal. He never had liked his uncle OR his aunt in the least, considering his own parents much to be prefered, and wondered how two brothers could be so very different. His father had been a good and loyal military man, yes, but just as important he'd been a good father and husband. And his mother was simply tip-top! Craig's parents - well, Philip considered himself damned lucky to end up with the ones he'd gotten in the draw. 

In fact, the only family he had ever envied Craig was Craig's grandmother on his mother's side, Miz Nancy B, who had been an astonishing old lady.

"Here, Philip, have a drink. It's not the usual. A friend shares her supply with us. The last bottle that arrived in the military allotment was worse than what's served at the local pub and that's really bad. The label on the bottle down there is so faded it's hard to tell if it was once proclaiming itself 'whiskey' or 'bourbon'. Probably has been refilled from dubious sources a thousand times since it came off the line, whichever it started out as. The military uses new bottles and new labels maybe, but frankly, the contents bear far too much similarity for my taste."

Philip took a sniff at the amber liquid in his glass, his eyebrows raised in shock. His father had trained him to truly appreciate fine liquor but this was extraordinary! A tiny sip, then a moan of appreciation. 

"Damn, Craig! That's one hell of a friend if she's willing to share THIS! I'm surprised she doesn't keep it under lock and key, maybe with an armed guard! Maybe you should introduce me! I'm much more charming than you are, after all, and even better looking, no matter what that impertinent pickpocket of yours seems to think about such matters. Nevermind the seemingly-inadequate - according to HIM, and I assure you he is wrong! - shape of my arse. 

"Maybe if I'm charming enough I'll end up with a case of this wonderful elixer as a consolation prize! I really should get SOMETHING, don't you think, for throwing myself into the breach? I mean, besides being taught how to light my cigarette with "that certain flair 'e 'as", or any of a hundred or more things Goniff seems to think you have an edge on and force-marched me to learn and emulate! Some of those things - impertinent doesn't begin to express, Cousin!"

Garrison grinned smugly, having heard about a few of those from the source himself. 

{"Oh, to be a fly on the wall during that one lesson!"}

"Goniff might be a little bit prejudiced about some things, though who am I to say he's wrong? After all, he does claim to be the leading expert on 'that Garrison flair', as he calls it.

"But as far as Meghada is concerned, I will introduce you before you leave, if she's around. She's not always. But don't go overboard with trying to charm her, and keep your hands to yourself. I'm giving you fair warning."

"Territorial, cousin?" Phillip asked with a surprised look. 

This was something he hadn't expected either, the various briefings from Garrison's men not mentioning any real female complications he needed to be aware of, certainly none Garrison might be a little defensive or territorial over. Somehow that lecture from Goniff had given him a very different impression as well, though that could have just been a combination of the intense level of knowledge the pickpocket seemingly had about Craig. Well, along with the firm approval in the pickpocket's voice, the fond look in those blue eyes when he described yet another of those many ways in which Craig outshone just about everyone else. 

Garrison snorted. "Just not wanting to deal with the expense of your medical bills or a funeral, Philip. She's not shy about expressing her disinterest in uninvited romantic overtures OR her annoyance if someone doesn't respect her boundaries. There's a very active pool set up by the village and the local ambulance crews on who ends up in the hospital next and under what circumstances from ignoring her warn-offs! The stories I could tell you! One involved a pitchfork, if you can believe! She's one damned fine fighter, one of the best to head out into a bad situation with. Smart, crafty, fits in with my crew just fine when we're out on a job together. But wherever - out in the field on a job, in London doing the pretty, or here in the village - she's unique and not to be toyed with."

Their talk turned idly to a subject USUALLY broached by soldiers - what they'd do after the war.

"My dad always said you'd probably make general, you know; that my uncle wouldn't have it any other way, no matter what YOU might want. Well, Mom said she didn't think you were all that eager for a military career, that it was a shame you didn't have a choice. Said you could have been one hell of a fine artist if your folks had the sense to let you go in that direction. Dad always said it'd be interesting to see how you turned out once you were on your own, away from them. Interesting isn't the half of it! Me, now, the military was what I wanted, right from the start. I was going to wear a uniform, just like our dads. I was going to save the world," and his voice dropped from jocular to sad.

"Well, Philip, SOMEONE has to save the world. And I think you're the one who's likely to make general some day. I know it's not going to be me. I have other plans once I get my release."

Philip looked at him questioningly. "Plans?"

And after hearing about that Consulting and Retrieval enterprise Garrison had in mind, he nodded.

{"And there is another part of 'that Garrison flair'. Another man would simply get through the war and go on his way with hardly a backward glance, leaving them behind to figure out how to get by on their own. Certainly his father would, not that HE would have ever consented to be part of this mad scheme in the first place. No, it's 'that Garrison flair' that makes it necessary, at least in his own mind, for Craig to find them a place in the new world to come, a place they can use their hard-won talents and skills without ending up back in prison."}

"Well, you have the makings of just the right crew right here, that's easy to see. But as far as making general, after this little fiasco? I don't think so. I'll be lucky to keep my captain's rank once I get back to my base, much less get that next promotion."

Garrison gave a sly grin that would have looked equally at home on any of his men's faces. 

"What little fiasco, Cousin? Yes, there was a little trouble, perhaps, but it didn't involve YOU! How could it??! Why, as I understand it, there are more than a dozen witnesses who will, if asked, swear you were in Ottowa at a two week-long meeting, then a dinner party for the participants when that supposed episode occurred. All just as ordered by your commanding officer's commanding officer's - well, it probably went up a few degrees from there. I made a point of NOT asking, I assure you!"

Philip choked on the excellent bourbon he was drinking. "Oh? My memory must be failing me. What meeting, what dinner party and who were the other participants and guests?"

And he listened with amusement at the list of individuals, some miitary, some in the political sphere, some elsewise, who had enjoyed his company that eventful evening, had gained from his insights at those prolonged meetings. 

"And did I enjoy myself? Make a good showing?" he asked with a wide grin. "It sounds like I should have! A most select gathering!"

"Oh, certainly. Displayed your solid knowledge and expertise during the meetings. Afterwards, danced with the charming ladies to the small quartet providing the music, had some inferior wine - at least by Actor's estimation - had a four course meal that was perhaps not as lavish as Goniff might have longed for but probaby quite adequate for wartime. Pity about that accident on the front steps. That light rain had been unexpected, and your host's daughter must have slipped as she was saying goodnight to everyone. Lucky you were there to break her fall; shame you got a few bruises in the process, of course. 

"You think of everything, don't you, Craig?" Philip asked, running his hand over those sore ribs and attendant bruises gained in his impersonation of his cousin. They'd anticipated everything, those men of his - the review board, all the tricky questions with the appropriate answers drilled into him til he could have responded even in his sleep, everything except that not-so-subtle commentary by that speeding car.

"I try. I sincerely do try," Craig Garrison admitted. "But it helps that whatever I don't think of, or, as in this case, am even unaware of, I have others around me who DO! Some of that thinking is probably going to turn me gray before my time, but you can't have everything."

"Maybe not. I've noticed something similar myself - actually both parts of that. But if I can't have everything, Craig, do you think I could have another glass of that bourbon? 

"And, I just have to ask - have you ever noticed just how much your guys, especially that thief of yours, resemble those elves that lived at the back of your grandmother's garden? Some of the stories she'd tell! I swear, I could picture them clear as day, and I could see your guys getting up to some of the same mischief. Remember the one about Meirleich and Tip-Top and the mayor's snippity daughter's underpants and the church steeple??! I can just see Goniff and Casino involved in something like that! 

"And that brings up another point. You know, I'm still building out my personal staff that I'll need after that promotion. I could use a specialist or two. I imagine all sorts of things could become a little easier to obtain with one of your guys, maybe more, around. Imagine what they could do for improving my supply lines, the whole lot of them! Hell, Goniff alone could improve matters substantially in that area, though I suppose I'd lose a percentage off the top, especially if food was involved. 

"Maybe I'll have a word with him before I leave, along with a few words with the supplier of that superb bourbon. Maybe get them BOTH in my corner, Goniff and that mysterious lady? You wouldn't have any objections to that, would you, Cousin?" 

Yes, Philip was truly enjoying pushing those buttons, watching, seeing what reaction he might get from his cousin.

He was gratified to find that latest volley got a raised brow, a warning look and a stern reminder, "territorial, Philip, you mentioned that word, remember? About some things, some people, I AM territorial! Your personal staff is your business but you leave Goniff out of it. And yes, I'm answering for him. Not that I have any doubt of his reply if you DID ask, but it would put him in an awkward, perhaps uncomfortable position for no good reason. Meghada, well, I wouldn't think of answering for her. Besides, she can take care of such impertinence herself, without feeling it would put her in either an awkward or uncomfortable position. Alhough I still hate to think of the medical bills."

Philip Garrison laughed at successfully prodding his cousin into responding to that particular button. He held up his hands in mock defense. "I wouldn't dream of overstepping any boundaries, dear cousin. Doubt I could manage any of your people anyway. I still haven't figured out how YOU manage it, but I intend to keep trying."

Actually he thought he HAD figured it out, had during those briefings from Garrison's men. {"He demands respect, which is only to be expected, of course. But he treats them with respect in return - at the same time acknowledging their strengths and weaknesses. He lets them be men, men fighting the same fight - not just tools, not slave labor under his whip hand. And as for them, the rough affection in their voices when they talk about him, the way they surged to his rescue - if an officer and one or more of his staff can be called friends, I'd say that's what's happened here. Well, perhaps not ALL, but that's the base."}

And the sound of laughter filled the hall, echoing even to the room where Casino was swinging that rigged bar to one side for Goniff to crawl through.

"What's so funny, I wonder?" Casino whispered to the others.

"Who knows. Don't it seem odd for two guys who didn't seem to like each other all that much, they sure are getting along real good now?"

"Ei, Chiefy. Bet they just 'adn't 'ad a real chance to get to know each other before. Even if they are cousins, not like they grew up side by side. Like with us, you know? Might 'ave passed on the street, might even 'ave been pulled into the same jobs if things 'ad been different. But then, the right place, the right time, the right things 'appening - snap! All of sudden there's a connection."

He slyly glanced over to be sure Actor was close at hand before continuing.

"Like F Scott Fitzgerald said, "they slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered." 

Actor's head spun around so fast it was surprising he didn't break something.

Goniff noted that, grinning on the inside, then continued.

"And maybe, sometimes, it's who a person is, maybe who they BOTH are at a particular time. Back then, they were two different people than they are now. Remember, "it is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy; - it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others." Jane Austen, you know," he offered matter-of-factly, more than a little pleased with himself, especially at the double meaning involved in all that, something likely only he would recognize.

Actor stared at the small man disappearing out the window. {"What on earth??!"}. Sometimes he would swear there wasn't a serious or learned thought in their pickpocket's head, or if there perchance WAS, it would surely die of loneliness before being joined by another. Then, other times - - -

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. We wanted to hear highbrow shit, we'd cue Beautiful here for a lecture, ya dumb Limey. Least I suppose that's what all that was. Can tell you, the only 'intimacy' I'm interested in tonight is if Josie is in the mood! Damn, it can't be healthy to go dry this long!" Casino griped.

"That's right, Pappy. It could get dangerous, we know. It's been, what, a whole two weeks now?" Chief commented, giving his teammate a goodnatured shove toward the window. "Better get going then, before she decides to go home with some other guy."

Down below, Chief whispered as they waited for Actor and Casino to make their descent, "you do that just to drive them nuts, right?" and had to smile at the cheeky reply. 

"Of course, Chiefy. Think it's working yet?" Goniff asked earnestly, knowing grin on his face.

And Chief, remembering the stunned look on Actor's face, the confused one on Casino's, laughed. "Yeah, most likely."

And the two Garrisons heard the muted laughter as the men headed out on their own spree, and they settled back to share a few distant memories of a kindly woman and a wonderous garden, along with some more recent adventures, and build the threads of a friendship foretold so long ago, but so long in coming.


End file.
